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I feel separated and cut off from the world around me, but occasionally I’ve felt that it was really a part of me, and I hope I’ll have that feeling again, and that next time it won’t go away. That’s a dim, misty outline of the story that’s told so often, of how man once lived in a golden age or a garden of Eden or the Hesperides … how that world was lost, and how we some day may be able to get it back again. … This story of the loss and regaining of identity is, I think, the framework of all literature.
